Was that me?

I haven't posted to this site in a long time. A very long time. It's been two years, in fact. Last night I scurried to post something new just to make things fresher.

January 2009 I wrote about being a single Christian black female. I was 28 then. I'm still a a single Christian black female. But my ramblings might be different now than they were then, and that has me tempted to do away with that post, somehow. Because I'm embarrassed of what i thought, what I expressed.

How silly.

We learn, we grow, we change, by the grace of God.

I'm sure those who know me know this. I'm not who I was January of 2009. Experience and time makes a difference. And our God does not leave us as we are. So I trust I won't be as I am in January 2013.
If you keep reading, I hope you'll see my progress, even amid the mistakes I make along the way.

In the meantime, I won't and can't hide any immaturity or weaknesses from 2009 or 2005 or 2010. It reflects my humanity, demonstrates my need for God and allows me to take a good look at what He's done and is doing.

You're welcome to look, too.

Truth and a Teenage Girl

Sometimes children shame me. The simplicity of their wisdom socks me in my belly. And my face is laying before me on the ground.

A 13 year old girl I work with managed to do so today. She was surprisingly pleasant and cooperative. Somehow I managed to select an activity that she attacked eagerly and enthusiastically. I was too relieved to be excited; that would have been an emotional leap.

After we finished our first activity she sat down to complete the next and launched seamlessly into a narration of the previous day's events as if I'd asked her to. As if we were old friends. But I know not to dismiss such opportunities. They don't come around everyday. Sometimes it seems like she's annoyed that I'm there, that I even exist. So today I listened.

The story was a *typical* teenage one: “these girls tried to fight me for no reason, just becausesomeonesaidIsaidsomethingabouttheothergirlonfacebook. But honestly, I wasn't even on facebook that night”, etc. I nod. I empathize. I say “mmmm”.

So she's confronted by these girls because they were misinformed. And because they're young, immature and completely lacking the skills required to resolve their issues (or non-issues).

Fortunately a teacher intervened, the battle was averted and my young friend ended the day resolving that there was nothing she could do about those girls. All she could do was write about it in her journal and pray over it. That's all.

I was stunned though I tried to conceal to what extent. But I praised her for that response. I told her it was very wise and that I need to do more of that myself.

There's not much more to say about this story; it makes its own point. Except to say that God loves to use this kind of irony in our lives; obviously I'm the adult and my job is to help this girl become a better reader. I've made it my goal to help her think critically and express herself intelligently. I lecture her about these things. I make her do what she doesn't feel like doing. I deal with her moods and resistant posture. Yet, from her young, developing self, she reminded me of a truth that I, the adult, am so quick to forget, to repress.

I desperately need to pause, reflect and pray over what overwhelms me. So let me pick my face up off the ground and get to it.